


Chess

by Bowm8935



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Job, Chess, M/M, Smut, templar!Carver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8160538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/Bowm8935
Summary: Prompt: LOL how about Cullen teaching Carver how to play Thedas' version of chess? If you want a longer prompt: If Carver can beat Cullen in a game of chess, Cullen will cave. He'll ignore their position- he as Carver's commanding officer- and take Carver to bed. It's best out of 3 games, and they can only move one chess piece a day. If Carver can get Cullen to the third game, it'll be played in bed and blindfolded.Or, in which Cullen tries to sneak past Carver's flirting by challenging him to a few games of chess, assuming he would win. He assumes wrong.





	

“No, no, no, don’t move _that_ one!” The words burst out of Cullen before he had realized what he was saying, his already stretched out hand pausing as he pointed at the piece Carver had picked up.

Carver let out a huff of laughter, raising an eyebrow at the Knight-Captain sitting before him. “Okay, so I get that I’m kinda bad at this, but uh, doesn’t telling me how to beat you kinda defeat the point?” Despite his snarky words, he still sat down what he had been about to move and instead picked up the piece indicated by Cullen’s pointed finger, moving it across the board. “What?” he asked defensively when Cullen groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I did what ya said, yeah?”

“Well, no, not exactly what I said. You are rather hopeless at this. Do you even know how to play?” Cullen asked, dropping his hand to his thigh and gazing at Carver with amusement evident on his face. When Carver shook his head, Cullen sighed, running a hand through his hair and slightly mussing up his perfect curls. “ _Maker’s breath_ , why did you agree to a game with me, then?” He had been surprised when his Knight-Lieutenant had accepted, not expecting the man who spoke like a farmboy and moved like a mercenary to know how to play. Cullen himself only knew because of his sister teaching him, mostly so she could beat him time and time again. He may not know much about the Hawke family, but that didn’t seem to be their way. At least, not with chess.

The tip of Carver’s mouth rose in a smirk as he waggled his eyebrows lewdly at Cullen. “What can I say, I wanted to spend more time in my commanding officer’s enticing presence.” He leaned over the small table their game was on, his hand knocking most of the chess pieces off the board onto the floor. “Shit,” he grumbled, sliding off of his chair onto the floor to pick them up.

“Allow me,” Cullen said, crouching down at the same moment. He reached out to grab a bishop, his hand brushing against Carver’s when he went for the same one. Cullen jerked his back as though burned, surprised at the thrill that had ran through him at the unexpected contact. Carver laughed, grabbing up the piece and placing it back on the board above them.

“Promise you won’t combust from touching me,” he said, scooping up the rest of the pieces while Cullen was frozen, one finger lightly tracing the spot where they had touched as his skin continued to tingle. “At least, not from touching my _hand_. Other places, however…”

“I-I-“ Cullen stuttered, standing up quickly and banging his head against the table, causing the board and pieces to go flying across the room. He rubbed his head gingerly, an expression of pure embarrassment forming on his face. “C-Carver, we- that is, I- I’m the Knight-Captain, for Maker’s sake!”

“And?” Carver tilted his head to the side, looking amused as Cullen felt the heat flooding his face. “No one has to find out. What they don’t know,” he stood up, taking a step forward, smiling mischievously at Cullen. “Won’t hurt them. So what do you say, ser?”

Cullen rubbed the nape of his neck, looking up at the tall man standing before him. What he was asking was impossible, forbidden under Meredith. Relationships in and of themselves were fine, though still frowned upon, once one reached a certain rank, as long as both parties were not Templars. To engage in an already prohibited relationship while he was Carver’s superior, well, that was downright imprudent. But he couldn’t deny that he felt a certain attraction for Carver, and the boy had been becoming either increasingly brave or desperate in his attempts to win Cullen’s favor. He was persistent, Cullen had to give him that. But maybe there was a way that he could let him off easily. “I, uh, well… how about another game?”

Carver did a double-take, brows furrowing at Cullen’s response. “Uh. Pardon?” he asked, confusion written across his face.

Cullen cleared his throat, willing himself past his naturally awkward nature to continue. “Well, how about, uh, we play another game. Or, or maybe do the best out of three, each moving one piece a day. If you can defeat me, then I will be willing to, um, ignore our…positions. That I am your commanding officer, that is. And that Meredith expressly forbids any dalliance between her knights.” He said all of this on one breath, sheepishly smiling at Carver at the end, face still flaming even as he felt himself calming. “I-is that agreeable?”

Carver stared at him slack-jawed, obviously in complete shock over what he had just heard. Cullen fidgeted under his gaze, wondering if perhaps he had been mistaken and Carver had only been flirting for the sake of flirting.

“I… yes, that’s uh, that’s great!” Cullen snapped his eyes back up to Carver’s face, a confident smirk back in place already. “But uh, you know what would make it even better?” Cullen cocked an eyebrow at him as a predatory smile crept over Carver’s face. “If we make it to the third game, we should play it in bed… blindfolded.”

He hadn’t thought it possible, but Cullen felt himself flushing an even deeper shade of crimson. Mind reeling at the unbidden images flashing through his mind, he barely managed to stutter out a “y-yes?”

“Great,” Carver responded, smirking as he laid a hand on Cullen’s cheek, Cullen’s eyes widening at the unexpectedly welcome contact. “Can’t wait.” With that, he stepped back, offering a final salute to Cullen before turning to walk out of the officer’s lounge. Cullen watched him go, finger tapping slightly on the table before him, doing his best to suppress the smile he felt trying to overtake his face.

 

* * *

 

Cullen moved the chess set to his office, deciding it would be less likely their game would be disturbed there than in the lounge. Every day at the end of his shift, Carver would stop by to deliver his report and move his chess piece. The first game passed as expected, Carver’s lack of experience making it almost too easy for Cullen to win. The second started out much better for Carver, leaving Cullen to wonder if it was pure luck or if Carver was somehow improving.

Then one day he entered the cafeteria, walking past the table Carver generally sat at with his friends, a varied group ranging from recruits up to ranking officers. The lad was a fairly popular one; surprising, actually, considering that he rose through the ranks quicker than was usual. The group was huddled together closely and as Cullen passed, he saw they were surrounding a chess board, Carver at one end and a recently-knighted man, Ser Paxley, at the other. He couldn’t help the small smile that cropped up on his face; it was a well-known fact that Ser Paxley was one of the best chess players in the Order. Kudos to Carver for working with him to get better.

He had been toying with the notion of letting Carver win, but it seemed the sentiment was unneeded, as when the game drew to a close, Carver closed in on Cullen expertly.

“I see Ser Paxley was quite the efficient tutor,” Cullen murmured, both eyebrows raised when Carver called ‘checkmate!’ “Well, I guess this means we get that third game, then. I must admit, I did not think we would get this far,” Cullen admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he gazed at the board with a small smile on his face. “So uh, I guess that means we…” he trailed off, looking up at Carver sheepishly.

Carver smirked, leaning back and quirking an eyebrow at him. “Means we get to play the next game in bed and blindfolded?”

“Yes, that,” Cullen mumbled, unable to meet his eye at the prospect. He honestly hadn’t expected Carver to defeat him so readily, and was slightly unnerved about the fact that he had no idea if he could truly win the next game or not.

Laughing, Carver put away the pieces and the board, snapping the case it was kept in shut. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow evening then, ser. Your quarters or mine?” He sat the case down on the table in front of them, pushing it gently in Cullen’s direction, shoving a lock of hair out of his eyes as he waited for Cullen’s answer.

“I think my quarters would suffice, don’t you, my knight?” asked Cullen quietly, finally looking back up at Carver. He knew Carver was afforded the small, private room that came with the rank of Knight Lieutenant, but it was in the same quarters as the rest of the officers, whereas Cullen’s was on a separate floor, away from others. It was also a lot larger. “Why don’t you wait and give me your daily report there, at the eighth bell?”

Carver winked at him, and Cullen felt his face starting to flush against his will. “As you say, ser!” Standing up, Carver gave him the normal salute before backing out of the door, only dropping Cullen’s gaze when he turned in the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

Cullen sat back, letting out a long and loud sigh, running his hands through his hair. He was beginning to think that maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew.

 

* * *

 

“Take off your shirt.”

Cullen whipped his head around, staring at the man standing in his doorway in naught but his leggings, an already discarded tunic gracing the floor near his feet. “I beg your pardon?”

Carver smirked, striding confidently past the small sitting room into the bedroom, winking lasciviously at him as he passed. Cullen bit his lip, massaging the back of his neck as the heat flared in his face again. His eyes were drawn to the muscles in Carver’s back as he moved, rippling enticingly as he made his way straight for the bed. He snapped his eyes away as Carver spun around and sat on the mattress, beckoning him over with a finger.

“Shirt, _off_ ,” Carver insisted as Cullen grabbed a couple of straps of black cloth that could be used to make adequate blindfolds. Laying them gently on the bed, he leveled a dubious glance at Carver as he straightened back up.

“Why?” he asked, scratching his neck absently. “The arrangement was blindfolded and in bed. I don’t recall anything being said about no shirts.” He supposed it could have been implied, but he really had no intentions of making this any more torturous than it was already set to be. He would already be sitting on his bed next to a man he found himself attracted to beyond all reason, albeit blindfolded.

Chuckling, Carver grabbed the small strap and held it in his hands as he grinned at Cullen. “Oh, there _wasn’t_ anything said about it. I’m adding it in now. So, shirt off.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow but obliged, sliding his tan tunic over his shoulders and folding it, laying it on the chest of drawers sitting near his bed. “Very well.” He picked up the other scrap of cloth, scooting on the covers until he sat across from Carver. “Shall we?”  Placing the fabric across his eyes, he secured it loosely behind his head, only now wondering what the purpose of the blindfolds were. Were they meant to help cut off the sense of vision to further increase his ability to envision the board? Perhaps Carver knew more about chess than he had originally given him credit for.

“Are you ready?” he asked, anxious to get the game underway.

“Ready when you are, ser,” came the response, a husky quality to Carver’s voice that sent shivers down Cullen’s spine. It also sounded _much_ closer than it should have, considering their positions when he had climbed on the bed.

“A-Alright,” Cullen said, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Pawn to E-4.”

“Pawn to D-6.” Carver sounded confident, but Cullen had experience on his side. He was certain he could win, though he was dithering on whether or not he actually _wanted_ to. He _should_ win, for as the Knight-Captain he needed to follow the rules set by the Knight-Commander and to do so, he needed to defeat Carver. He found that a growing part of him wanted nothing more than to break that particular rule, consequences be damned.

 _Quit getting distracted!_ he chided himself, shaking his head slightly to clear away the thoughts. _You won’t stand a chance if you can’t focus on the game._ Outwardly, he responded with “pawn to D-4.”

There was a ripple along the bed as Carver’s voice came even nearer. “Knight to F-6.”

“Um, Knight to C-3?” He didn’t mean it to come out as a question, but he felt the bed shift again, this time able to feel the small slide of Carver across the duvet as he scooted closer still. What on thedas was he doing?

“Sure? You sound uncertain, ser,” Carver laughed roughly, the sound ricocheting throughout Cullen’s body and making heat start to coil in his belly. “Pawn to G-6.”

“Bishop to… _What are you doing, Carver!?”_ Cullen’s voice turned higher-pitched than he’d liked to admit when he felt hands land on his shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles between his shoulder blades.

“Helping you to relax, Knight-Captain, _ser,_ ” whispered Carver into his ear, hot breath fanning down his neck as the hands moved down, kneading at the muscles gently. Cullen let out a small groan; it felt _good_. “You’re always so tense, let me help. Make your move.”

It took a moment for Cullen to realize that he was talking about the game. Clearing his throat, he stammered “b-biship to E-3.”

“Good move,” Carver said, his voice so close that Cullen was surprised that he couldn’t feel lips on the shell of his ear. The hands stroked up and down his spine, Cullen shuddering in response from the sensations spreading out along his skin. It seemed Carver was bent on distracting him from the game. “Bishop to G-7.”

“Qu-Queen to D-2.” He felt the hands drop further still, one trailing lightly across the bare skin on his hips around to the front, goosebumps cropping up as it passed. His breath hitched when it slipped over his leggings, the palm coming to rest on top of Cullen’s hardening erection. “C-Carver…” he hissed as fingers played softly across him, drawing his lip between his teeth as a moan escaped him.

“Pawn to C-6,” Carver whispered before squeezing gently, Cullen arching into his hand involuntarily. There was a nibble on his ear, and Cullen found himself panting, the heat pooling higher in his belly.

“I-I,” Cullen could barely think while the hand drew lazy circles over his length, shivers coursing throughout his body at the contact. “Uh…p-pawn to, um…”

Chuckling, Carver bit at his ear with a little more force this time. “Want me to stop?” he asked in a low voice, husky and filled with want. “Unless you concede the match, that is.” He withdrew his hand, and Cullen felt the loss of heat keenly.

Swallowing thickly, Cullen tried to bring the image of the chess board up in his mind again, but it was useless. He had been successfully distracted. “I concede,” he said quietly, reaching a hand up to untie his blindfold. It fell limply to the bed, and he turned to face the smirking man behind him. “I am tempted to call you out on cheating, but…”

“But?” Carver prompted, smirk growing larger as he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Cullen to continue.

He felt the heat rushing through his cheeks as he confessed something that he had never thought he would. “But I… well, I find that I rather enjoyed it.”

“Ooooooh?” The word was drawn out as Carver leaned forward, close enough that their noses were almost touching. “You don’t say. Want more?”

“I- yes,” whispered Cullen, locking his eyes onto the bright blue ones of Carver. The word was barely out when Carver’s mouth crashed into his, lips hungrily devouring all Cullen had to offer. The brush of a tongue against him led Cullen to open his mouth, moaning when Carver dove in immediately, tangling their tongues together.

The bed bowed slightly as Carver scooted in closer, running his hands softly down Cullen’s back a few times before scraping lightly with his nails. The action elicited a low groan from Cullen, driving Carver to dig in further before bringing a hand around to Cullen’s chest, pushing him to lay flat on the bed. Propping himself up on an elbow, Carver shifted to lay on his side, breaking the kiss as he ran a hand down Cullen’s chest, stopping at the edge of the leggings. Nimble hands deftly untied them, loosening them and tugging them down far enough to reveal Cullen’s erection straining against his smalls. Cullen’s breath sawed out of him when Carver again palmed his hardened cock, throwing his head back against the bed and biting back the noises that threatened to escape him at the contact.

“I want you in my mouth,” Carver murmured, placing kisses along Cullen’s neckline. He nibbled and nipped gently at Cullen’s collarbone, licking soothing lines over any areas reddened by his ministrations. “I wanna taste you, lick you, make you scream…” he said, following up his words with a firm stroke of his hand, Cullen thrusting up into his palm. Carver trailed kisses down his chest, licking teasingly at his nipples as he made his way downward. “Can I?” he asked, curling his fingers into the waistband of Cullen’s smalls, looking up at him from underneath lidded eyes.

Carver’s bright eyes were nearly black, pupils blown wide with lust. The sight only added to the desire already crashing through Cullen in waves, and he nodded, unable to form any words, lifting his hips off the bed. Carver wasted no time relieving him of his smalls, catching the leggings on the way down and pulling them off together until Cullen was naked before him on the bed, panting heavily as he stared at Carver with wide eyes.

Situating himself between Cullen’s legs, Carver kneeled over him and licked a broad stripe from the bottom of his shaft up to the head. Cullen nearly shot off the bed at the sensation; he had never had anyone do this for him before. The feeling was _amazing_ , pleasure radiating out to encompass his entire body. He was unprepared for when Carver swallowed him whole, taking him up the hilt, the wet heat suddenly surrounding him absolutely intoxicating. Cullen tangled his hands into the blanket beside him, using every ounce of self-control he had not to thrust up in Carver’s mouth to chase the feeling.

Carver licked and suckled, bobbing up and down to an unseen rhythm so slow that it nearly drove Cullen mad. Fingers caressed and tugged lightly at his scrotum, setting even more nerves on fire with pleasure. The black hair brushed softly against his abdomen as Carver took him in again, soft and almost tickling him. One of his hands reached down to twine his fingers within the locks before Cullen even realized what he was doing. He pulled on them harder than he intended, dragging a low growl out of Carver at the action. The hum from the noise shot straight through him and he slammed his head on the soft cushion beneath him, a hiss escaping him as the flame inside burned even higher still.

“C-Carver, nghn… p-please…” he pleaded as another wave of pleasure crashed through him. While Cullen was inexperienced, it was quite obvious that Carver was _not_. He seemed to know every trick, every possible thing to do to make Cullen writhe beneath him, and writhe, Cullen did. He could feel himself approaching the edge, but as delightful as this was, he wanted _more_.

Blue eyes that had become nearly black looked up at him from underneath long eyelashes, a stray piece of hair falling forward to dangle between them. Carver tilted his head, a question in his eyes, but did not stop moving that wicked tongue of his. Cullen’s eyes flew to the ceiling as his hips bucked up, unable to stop himself as the heat coiled tighter and tighter within him. He was so close now.

Carver seemed to sense that Cullen would be unable to speak if he kept going at it, so he sat back on his heels, releasing Cullen’s cock with a loud _pop!_ Licking his lips enticingly, he smirked at Cullen, quirking an eyebrow at the man before him gasping for breath. “What do you want?”

“I, I want… _more,_ ” Cullen wheezed, his breathing jagged. He still had a hand in Carver’s hair, and he used it to pull the man up his chest to his mouth for a kiss filled with passion and neediness.

Chuckling against his lips, Carver whispered, “well, you need to be more _specific_ than that. Want more of _what_?”

Cullen moaned into his mouth when Carver’s hand stroked up and down his length, breaking the kiss to gulp in air. “I want _you_.”

“You have me.” Cullen groaned in frustration at the response, and the following huff of laughter from the man above him told him what he already suspected: Carver knew _exactly_ what he was asking for, but was going to make him get the words out, somehow.

“Inside,” Cullen gasped as Carver encircled him again, moving his hand upward in an infuriatingly slow motion. “I want you…inside.”

“If you’re sure,” Carver said quietly into his ear, biting at his lower lip before sitting up. He looked around the room with his lips pursed to the side, causing Cullen to push himself up onto his elbows, tilting his head as he tried to figure out what Carver was looking for. “Oil?” he finally asked, glancing down at Cullen with a softened look of want on his face. “We need oil for this.”

“Oh.” Cullen pointed shakily at the top drawer of the chest in front of them, where he kept the oil he used to massage his knees at night. They had never been injured, yet they always bothered him at this time of year. It was a habit from back when he was still at Kinloch Hold, where the healer Wynne had first told him to do it. It helped the pain and stiffness, for sure, but he had never expected to use it for anything like this.

Climbing off the bed, Carver took the few steps over, pulling the drawer open and digging around. It didn’t take him long to produce the bottle, smiling in triumph as he slammed it shut perhaps a little harder than was strictly necessary. “Sorry,” he said with a lopsided grin as he made his way back to the bed, already popping the cork from the top of the bottle. “The drawers stick in my own dresser. Didn’t know yours shut so easily.” He sat the bottle down on the small table by the bed, reaching down to untie his own leggings.

“It is of no concern,” Cullen assured him, eyes drawn immediately to the erection that stood proudly once released from the confines of Carver’s britches. _Maker_ , was he large. Unconsciously, Cullen licked his lips, watching as Carver dripped some of the oil on his hands and then rubbed it over his cock.

“Done this before?” Carver asked as he climbed back onto the bed, crawling over to Cullen with a look so sinful on his face that Cullen was surprised that the Maker didn’t smite them right then and there. He shook his head in response, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Not a big deal. So I’m gonna get you ready, and then I’ll go in, real slow. You need to let me know if it hurts, though, yeah?” Cullen nodded, anticipation building within as he watched Carver dribble a bit of the oil onto his fingers before reaching over to set it back on the table. He situated himself between Cullen’s legs again, bringing up one calf to rest on his shoulder, before sliding the oiled hand down him.

Cullen let out a sound somewhere between a whine and a moan as the first finger went in, the sensation both strange and oddly pleasurable. Carver slowly circled inside of him, letting him get used to the feeling before adding a second. He started scissoring his fingers slowly, stretching Cullen out, as well as dragging them lightly against the walls, sending what felt like sparks coursing through Cullen’s body.

“More, nghn,” Cullen panted, prompting Carver to insert a third finger, Cullen bucking upwards and letting out a rather loud whine.

“Mmm, you like that, huh?” Carver asked in a low, gravelly voice, dragging his fingers inside of Cullen to elicit the same sound.

“P-please,” Cullen begged, mouth falling open as he arched upwards, trying to increase the pleasure even more. “Y-you, ins-side, now.” Despite it having been his request, he let out a little sound of want when Carver withdrew his fingers, the time seeming to go on forever before he felt the head of Carver’s cock pressing against him. He tried to push against it, to speed up the process, but Carver’s hands came down on his hips, pinning him in place.

“ _Slow_ , remember? I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, and Cullen nodded, chewing on his lip as he locked his gaze with Carver’s. He felt the tip penetrate him slowly, Carver edging in a little at a time until he was finally fully sheathed. There, he stopped, both of them panting and staring into each other’s eyes. Cullen moaned at the feeling, the fullness, the rightness of it. There had been a time when he had thought it a sin in the Maker’s eyes to be with another man; now, he was certain he had been wrong. Surely nothing that felt this right could be wrong.

Carver withdrew slightly before thrusting back in, and Cullen groaned loudly, grabbing onto the bulging biceps of the man above him and digging his nails into his skin. The pain from it seemed to incite Carver more, his thrusts becoming wilder, faster as he let out a growl, his jaw clenched and his fingers pressing firmly against Cullen’s hips.

The pace increased steadily, as did the pleasure Cullen felt. He felt his own cock throbbing with need, bouncing neglected every time Carver drove into him. Any time he considered reaching down to grasp himself, Carver would thrust in and Cullen would latch onto his arms even harder, a loud moan being ripped from his throat in the process.

He felt the arm move before the fingers wrapped around him, and it was only a matter of one, two, three quick jerks before Cullen’s vision was clouded with white, letting out a yell that sounded suspiciously like “Ser Carver!” as he tumbled over the precipice into his orgasm, his head hitting the bed as gibberish fell out of his mouth. Above him, he felt Carver’s hips stutter before he cursed loudly, slamming into Cullen even deeper before finally collapsing next to him, chest heaving as he panted.

Cullen waited until he was fairly certain he could feel his legs before getting up and dipping a cloth left by one of the Tranquil earlier that day into a bowl of water, gently wiping himself off before dipping it back in to clean it off and approaching Carver. Carver moved as though to take it from him but Cullen _tsk_ -ed him and set about cleaning him off himself, drawing the cloth across the chest sticky with his own seed before moving down to gently clean the cock that had caused him so much pleasure just moments prior.

When he was satisfied that Carver was clean, he stood back up, dropping the cloth in the laundry basket. Offering a hand to Carver, he helped the man slide off the bed. 

“Thanks for the game of _chess_ ,” Carver said, the ever-present smirk tugging at his lips as he slipped his smalls and leggings back on. “Maybe we’ll have to play again?”

Cullen chuckled softly, handing Carver his shirt. “Yes, we shall have to. What do you think, same time next week?“ 

Stepping forward to place a much softer kiss on Cullen’s lips, Carver murmured, “count on it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you... *gasp* hate it? Let me know! I'm always open for reviews, comments and helpful criticism.  
> I'm here to grow. :)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr as StarlingHawke


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